I’m in a hard-core sales environment, where you need boundless optimism, tons of energy, a thick hide and a great smile. Thank God, I’m well-preserved. I have long ago accepted that I am significantly older than the majority of people in the office, by 10 years minimum if not 20 or more. I’m fine with that. I like being around all sorts and types of people. It keeps the days interesting and everyone brings fresh perspectives to the job.

Although I’m aware of my age relative to the rest of the group, I don’t think about it too much. Until I have no choice.

A couple of weeks ago, the crew was heading out to a bar to blow off steam after hours. One of our many workplace Romeo-wannabes, came into my office. His jacket and tie were discarded, top couple of shirt buttons undone. He leaned over my desk ( I suspect he thought a glimpse of his love rug would help seal the deal) and asked me to join the crowd for drinks. I hesitated a second, because a glass of wine sounded pretty darn good, but then he delivered the fateful line, “You used to be really good-looking, weren’t you?”

Yep. Someone actually said that to me at work. The funny part was that I believe he honestly thought he was giving me a compliment.

I literally snorted in his face and dismissed him from my office. And this is why I drink alone.